


the last all-clear

by itsaguiltypleasure (beccatheweird)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/F, F/M, The Avengers (2012) Spoilers, bucky isn't the winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccatheweird/pseuds/itsaguiltypleasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adelaide wants to protect her boys. </p>
<p>Or, the one where someone else falls from the train, and Bucky goes into the ice with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last all-clear

**September 1939**

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were regulars at the small diner, almost had be to even know where to find it, hidden as it was down a side street on the way to the Botanic Gardens. But the Brooklyn natives, like Steve and Bucky, having grown up walking the winding streets of Crown Heights since they got their feet under them knew every nook and cranny.

Adelaide did sort of hope that perhaps her presence was a contributing factor to the two men dining in with such frequency as they did, because surely, “Best coffee in Brooklyn,” had to be a joke.

She leaned against the counter, cream-coloured and chipped, but spotlessly clean. In fact, most of the diner glistened as much as it was able, having been cleaned at least twice that morning. It was a quiet day for the diner, one in a long string of quiet days. With a world war having just been declared, most folks seemed more inclined to clear out supermarket shelves and hunker down at home than eat out. Even the welcoming yellow and peach walls of Marco’s seemed to hold their breath, waiting for anything to make the world fun again.

Just as Adelaide had begun to give up hope of anyone coming in during her shift, the little bell above the door tinkled and two young men tumbled through the opening, bringing with them a short gust of warmth. The air still held the last of summer’s heat for now, but Adelaide suspected it wouldn’t be long now before she would need to shrug on a coat before leaving her apartment.

“Honestly Stevie, you need to start wearing your sweaters now or you’ll be the only man in the whole damn city with a summer cold,” the taller man said with a scowl, brown hair in it’s usual state of stylish disarray.

“Don’t treat me like a kid, Buck — I know what I’m doing.” Steve, smaller and blonder, glared right back up at his childhood friend, fists clenched and jaw set.

Adelaide smiled softly, used to these arguments whenever the weather showed signs of turning for the worse. Steve, she knew, was prone to all manner of chest colds and coughs, and took them harder than most. The man’s skinny frame and permanent asthma made him vulnerable to those invisible threats all year, but fall and winter were definite danger zones, and Bucky made it his personal mission to make sure Steve never so much as got a runny nose — where he could help it, that was.

The pair made their way over to their usual booth at the back by the kitchen, still muttering curses at each other. Adelaide grabbed her notebook and waltzed over, already anticipating Bucky’s flirtations and Steve’s blushing.

“Well hey there, doll face,” Bucky said, predictably, a dazzling grin on his lips.

“Hey Addy.” Steve offered her a smaller, but no less genuine for it, smile.

“Boys,” Adelaide acknowledged, grinning her waitress charm. “The usual today, or are you gonna surprise me this time?”

“Just the usual I think sweetheart, thank you. Maybe a bit o’ extra bacon for little Stevie here, the real greasy kind if you wouldn’t mind. Gotta keep his weight up, ya know?” Bucky winked her way and didn’t flinch when Steve kicked his shin under the table.

“I’m not your girl, Barnes. I can order for myself.”

Bucky looked his friend up and down appraisingly. “Well, you do have the prettiest mouth I ever seen on a guy, but you’re definitely not big enough in the chest for me Stevie.”

Adelaide and Steve both whacked Bucky upside the head simultaneously, she with her notebook and he with a menu.

“That’s no way to speak about a woman’s body, Barnes,” Adelaide said with a frown. “See if I bring you any damn sugar for you coffee today.”

“And don’t say shit like that about my goddamn mouth, Bucky.” Steve was redder than a ripe tomato, looking like smoke might erupt from his ears at any second.

“Why, you like it too much baby boy?” Bucky crooned, smirking. “And I’m sorry Addy — you know I don't mean no harm. It’s just too fun to wind Stevie up.”

Adelaide gave a long-suffering sigh and said, “Yeah, I know. So the usual with extra bacon for the toothpick man, and a pot of coffee on the house. That sound about right?”

“You’re too good to us, darlin’.”    
“And you boys better not forget it.”

Adelaide went out back to the kitchen to give the order to Jeremy, adding that he should make extra bacon for the second plate.

He gave her a sideways look and said, “That ain’t on the order. You not charging ‘em for it?” Sweat glistened on his dark forehead — despite not having cooked anything that morning, the kitchen got easily to sweltering even toward the end of summer.

Adelaide shrugged, preparing the pot of coffee. “It’s for Steve.”   
Jeremy’s expression cleared and he nodded in understanding. “I’ll make sure it’s decent sized egg too, then.” All of Marco’s employees knew Steve and Bucky, and especially knew about Steve’s health. Adelaide wasn’t the only waitress who snuck a little extra to their table when the opportunity arose, and the cooks never said anything to the boss when a couple of slices of toast or an egg went missing from the store room. It was just assumed they were kitchen casualties and got scratched off the inventory list at the end of the week.

“Thanks, Jeremy.” Adelaide gave him a smile before backing out into the dining room again, carrying her tray of coffee, creamer and sugar expertly on one hand. Two mugs dangled from the fingers of her other hand, and were placed neatly in front of Steve and Bucky respectively.

“You’re a life-saver, Addy.” Bucky heaped sugar into his cup before filling it half-full with coffee, and topped it up with creamer. Adelaide would never admit it, but that was exactly how she took her coffee too. Strong, sweet and creamy. Steve, on the other hand, had his black as pitch and with the smallest spoonful of sugar he could manage.

“You know, we really should start charging you for all the damn creamer you use, Barnes.” Adelaide’s tone was mild, mouth curved into a joking crescent.

“I’m afraid we’re flat broke at the moment, sweetheart. I’m sure I could pay you back in other ways, though.” His eyebrows wiggled and Adelaide snorted.

“Never gonna happen, Barnes. Just drink your damn sugar-milk and shut up. Food’ll be out in a jiffy, Jeremy’s been just waiting for an order to come in.”

“Business been slow?” Steve looked concerned, him and the rest of America knowing full well that waitresses like Adelaide often relied on tips to scrape through the week. And no customers meant no tips.

Adelaide shrugged. “Well there’s the whole world war thing keeping people at home. Folks aren’t wanting to spend much money on diner food these days. Not much in the mood for it, I guess.”

“Good thing you got me and Steve keeping this place running then, hm?”

“Sorry to break it to you Barnes, but your wages times ten ain’t enough to keep this place open for a week, let alone til the end of the war,” Adelaide laughed, trying to make a joke of it but falling short.

Bucky grabbed her hand from where it hung at her side and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “It’ll pick up again Addy, just you see. People just have to get over their damn jitters and then it’ll all go back to normal.”

Adelaide smiled and squeezed his fingers gently, gratefully. “Well I’m better off here than at Patty’s ‘round the block at least. He’s firing girls left right and centre and just keeping the cheapest on. At least Marco’s making the effort to give all of us time, even if it’s less than usual. Better to have short shifts than no shifts.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bucky agreed, releasing her hand and sprawling back into the booth. “Ol’ Mr Banks at the docks had to let some of the older boys go too, but he reckons I’ve got a job until the yard shuts down at least. And Stevie’s too popular with the ladies down at the store for them to ever let him go — he brings in half the business they still have!”

“C’mon Buck, you know that isn’t true.”

“Sure it is Steve — you’re a proper people person,” Adelaide encouraged. “Some of the regular gals here mention you to me. Say you’re sweet as a peach whenever they go in.”

“Do those gals happen to be over the age of fifty-five?” Steve asked dryly.

Adelaide paused, feeling guilty. “Maybe. But that ain’t the point Steve. Your customers adore you, no matter their age.” The situation was saved by a loud ding from the kitchen, signalling their food was ready. Ducking her head in apology and by way of excusing herself, Adelaide hurried back to the kitchen. Even with two trays she was practised enough to get back through the swinging doors using her hips and not spilling a single crumb on the floor.

“For the little guy —” she places the plate with eggs, hash browns and extra bacon in front of Steve “ — and for the loud-mouth jackass.” Bucky’s plate carried a stack of syrup-sweet pancakes and fried tomato on the side.

“Remind me how you still have a job when you treat your customers like dirt?”

“Oh honey, to everybody else I’m sweet as candy floss. You two’re just special.” She winked at Bucky and cleared off to help Jeremy with some dishes, leaving the men to eat their meal in solitude.

When the kitchen was cleaned and Bucky and Steve had nothing but grease and syrup left on their plates, Adelaide re-emerged and collected their plates on a tray to take back to Jeremy, returning once again with the cheque.

“You not charging us for the bacon again, Addy?” Steve asked, looking surprised (as he had the other dozens of times).

“Course not Steve. You’re practically family here, the both of you, and we want you healthy and fed.” Adelaide patted his shoulder, face soft. For all her ribbing, she really was fond of the two men.

Bucky took some crumpled notes out of his pocket, counting out the money for the meal then pressing a dollar bill firmly into Adelaide’s hand.

Adelaide stared down at the money in her hand, dumbfounded. “What’s this?”

“That’s your tip.”

She stared at Bucky incredulously. “That’s almost the price of your meal. You said you’re broke, Bucky, what—”

“That was an exaggeration, Addy. We’re doin’ just fine, me and Steve. We can spare a dollar for our favourite waitress. And you’re our friend. We wanna help.” His eyes were earnest as he patted her hand. “Right Stevie?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re the best damn waitress in this place, and we care about you besides. Just take the money — you earned it, honest.”

Adelaide looked between the two of them, between two shades of blue eyes, and tried not to cry. Truth was, she was struggling to keep her head above water since the war was declared. She only had fifteen dollars left of her parents’ money after paying the lease deposit on her apartment, plus maybe six or seven dollars of her own money set aside. And with bills coming in in just a few weeks, plus needing new nylons and shampoo and groceries, she’d be lucky to have even that left, and she definitely wasn’t making enough to replace it.

“Thank you,” she said, voice a little watery. Neither man mentioned it, thankfully, and she dipped her head in gratitude before hurrying off to the kitchen and processing Bucky’s meal money at the till.

It was then that Adelaide’s replacement, a bubbly aspiring actress called Angie fluttered in through the door, all smiles and how-do-you-do’s.

“Oh, Frenchy!” she cried, throwing her slender arms around Adelaide’s shoulder’s in a hug. Angie had a bad habit of giving people ironic nicknames. Her logic for Adelaide’s was that if she was named for one place, she’d be called another. Bucky and Steve had their own nicknames, too — ever since finding out Bucky’s middle name was Buchanan, Angie had taken to calling him Daisy at every opportunity. Bucky took it fairly well, laughing and joking along. Steve was Stella, because Angie’s favourite book was “A Streetcar Named Desire” and Steve was, “So delicate and pretty, just like our dear little Mrs Kowalski!” Angie had reasoned, a twinkle in her eye.  

“Hey Ang.” Adelaide returned the taller woman’s hug, dirty blonde hair tickling her cheek and flowery perfume filling her nose. “How you been?”

“Oh, you know me, still kicking.” Angie pulled back and grinned, red lipstick pristine as usual. “You get that leak in your kitchen fixed yet?”

“All patched up,” Adelaide lied, her most reassuring expression plastered on her face.

“Goodie. Anyways, you better run on home and get yourself some lunch. I dunno how you do the morning shift without a snack, I really don’t.” Angie pressed a light kiss to Adelaide’s cheek and patted her head, then whipped her apron and cap on. “Hey Daisy, hey Stella,” she called, waving to the men.

“Angel,” Bucky replied, blowing her a kiss.

Adelaide rolled her eyes and pulled off her apron, folding it and her cloth cap neatly into her purse and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Bye Angie, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Bye bye, sweetheart! Watch yourself on the streets ya hear?”

“Always, Ang.”

“Why don’t we walk you home, Addy?” Steve offered at a nudge from Bucky. “It’s barely out of our way, and it’s no trouble. We were gonna leave soon anyway.”

Adelaide smiled and accepted, looping her arm through Steve’s offered elbow. He was only an inch or so taller than her, which was refreshing for Adelaide, who was used to being dwarfed by the opposite sex, standing at a meagre 5’3”. Her stature was also something that made her vulnerable to all sorts of unwanted attention — she’d had men grab at her before, and even a frightening incident where only the intervention of a sharp-tongue nurse with a mean right hook had prevented Adelaide from being dragged into an alleyway. Walking home with Steve and Bucky escorting her certainly made her feel a little safer.

The three waved one final goodbye to Angie before departing the diner. Bucky walked about half a pace ahead of Adelaide and Steve, but managed to keep up a constant flow of conversation over his shoulder. Their progress was almost halted by Steve trying to pick a fight with a man who’d made a lewd remark about the length of Adelaide’s skirt, but Bucky shoved him on and spat a curse at the man over his shoulder. After that he kept his arm thrown loosely around Adelaide’s shoulder and Steve was the one walking a half-pace ahead.

“Is that normal?” Bucky murmured as they approached Adelaide’s building. “What that man did?”

Adelaide sighed resignedly. “Unfortunately. Nothing bad ever happens though, not during the day. That’s the worst it gets when the sun’s up.”

“And when it’s not?” Bucky levelled a stern look at her, warning her not to lie.

“It— I’ve been grabbed before. Just, on the shoulder or the arm. One guy came up behind and had me by the waist but I hit him with my purse and ran. I’m always okay.”

Bucky’s jaw was set with something close to rage but his voice was calm when he asked, “What days to you shut the diner?”

Adelaide blinked. “Monday and Tuesday. Sometimes Saturday if someone’s sick.”

“I’m walking you home those days. I can jog to Marco’s from the dock in ten minutes, get there just as you lock up.”

“But—”

“No buts, Addy.” Bucky’s voice was firm and his arm tightened around her shoulder. “You’re not walking home alone at night anymore. I’m not letting it happen, even if I have to sprint from the dock to get there before you even have to clean the coffee pots. I’m not letting anyone touch you again. Kinda pissed I haven’t already been doing this, to be honest with ya darlin’.”

“But your overtime, you need the money,” Adelaide insisted.

Bucky waved his free hand carelessly. “Most of my overtime is on the weekends. Week nights there’s jack-all to do after sundown. Let me do this. Please, Addy. I want to.”

Adelaide turned to look up at him, frowning slightly. His grey-blue eyes were wide and serious, mouth pulled tight in a firm line. She relented at the worry she saw, worry she knew now was for her. “Alright. But only Mondays and Tuesdays. If you get overtime on Saturdays, you take it.”

Bucky looked torn, like he was going to fight her but it was then that they reached the entrance to her building. He had no choice but to let the matter drop.

“Thank you for walking me home.” Bucky’s arm dropped from her shoulders and he smiled when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, then Steve’s.

“It’s no trouble, Addy. Our pleasure.” Ever the gentleman, Steve squeezed her hand lightly before shoving his back in his pocket with a gently smile.

Bucky went so far as to drop a kiss in her hair before they both waved good bye and headed on to their own building, a few blocks east. Adelaide smiled as she watched them go, Bucky ruffling Steve’s hair and Steve ducking away, curses falling from his mouth.

She really didn’t know what she’d do if either of them went away to war.

 

**April 1940**

“Happy birthday, doll face!” Bucky crowed as he walked into the diner, Steve in tow. The brunet was holding one hand behind his back, a suspiciously smug smile on his face.

“Bucky!” Adelaide hissed, secretly pleased. “I’m at work!”

“Adelaide, you can have a fifteen minute break,” Angie called from across the diner, pausing in taking a new couples’ order. “I got this. If more than four more people walk in the door, you come back. But otherwise, have fun.”

Adelaide opened her mouth to protest, as business had finally picked up again and she didn’t want to leave Angie alone, but Bucky promptly grabbed her hand and tugged her out the diner, Steve holding the door open for them. She cast one final helpless look at Angie but the other waitress was studiously ignoring the trio, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“Bucky, you can’t just drag me out of work,” Adelaide huffed, trying very hard to remain annoyed but being slightly overcome by giddiness.

“Steve helped.”

“It was your idea,” Steve retorted mildly. “Not that I didn’t want to surprise you, Addy, but I did suggest we wait until your shift ended. This numbskull didn’t wanna wait.”

“Forgive me for being excited about my best girl’s birthday.” Bucky was smiling too big to even pretend harshness.

Adelaide’s heart skipped a beat at being referred to as Bucky’s best girl, even if she knew damn well he didn’t mean it in the way she wanted to take it. “You could have waited ’til I got home. We live in the same damn apartment, Bucky.” When everyone’s jobs became even more precarious, money tighter, the three had just decided to find an apartment together and split the rent three ways. It was cheaper living for all, and Steve and Bucky didn’t mind sharing a room. They’d even managed to pick up bunk beds from a yard sale for fifty cents, and all it needed was a good dusting, some extra screws and a fresh coat of lacquer.

“I couldn’t wait!” Bucky whined, sounding like a petulant six-year-old. With that, he shoved a brown paper package at Adelaide’s chest, taking her by surprise. “I’m sorry we couldn’t wrap it nice — Steve tried to sneak some fancy paper home from the store but couldn’t get it past the manager.”

“It’s fine — thank you for even trying. I’m just amazed you got me anything.” She ran her fingers lightly over the package, feeling a palm-sized box inside.

“O’ course we did,” Steve spoke indignantly. “It’s your birthday.”

“Twenty-two,” she murmured, still holding the present to her chest.

“Well are you gonna open it?” Bucky asked impatiently. He seemed almost more excited than she was.

Grinning in reply, Adelaide tore the package open and pulled out an unassuming black box, brass hinges glinting. It was a jewellery box. Adelaide stilled and said warningly, “Bucky… Steve, what—”

“Just open it,” they said in unison, matching fond smiles on each of their faces.

She swallowed thickly and slowly prised the box open, and sucked in a gasp at the necklace within. The chain was silver in colour, but it was doubtful the metal was anywhere near that precious. Not that it matter. Two dog-tags hung from it, and she knew immediately what would be stamped into the thin metal. She flipped them between her fingers, tracing the letters.

Barnes, James B. 100317  
Rogers, Steven G. 040718

“I know we’re not in yet,” Steve said softly, “but we wanted you to have these for us.”

Tears welled in Adelaide’s eyes at the thought of her boys fighting in trenches, surrounded by gunfire and blood and death. But it was comforting that the inscriptions had no unit number, no serial number. Just their names and birthdates. A symbol, nothing more. But still so much. She knew that dog-tags of fallen soldiers were often returned to family — either mothers, sisters or wives usually. The fact that Bucky and Steve had decided to give these to her, to make them for her, showed how much they cared. It spoke volumes as to how they saw her.

“Steve…Bucky—” Unable to articulate the emotions running through her, Adelaide just threw her arms around Steve, careful not to drop the necklace or its box, and let his arms wind around her waist. She clutched the skinny frame close to her breast, burying her face in his neck and kissing his hair. Then Bucky’s arms went around her and Steve both, his wide chest warm and solid on her back.

“We love you, Addy.” Bucky murmured into the top of her head.

“We love you,” Steve repeated, tightening his hold.

“I love you, too.” A few tears slipped from Adelaide’s eyes, probably smudging her makeup but she didn’t care in that moment. She allowed herself a few moments of just being held by her two favourite people in the world, then drew back, breaking their little huddle. She gave a watery grin and said, “So who’s gonna put these on me?”

“May I?” Bucky held out his hand and plucked the chain from her hand. He brushed her hair from the back of her neck and fastened the clasp at the nape, fingers dry and warm. He pressed another kiss into her hair and re-settled the strands down her back, tugging cheekily on a loose dark curl.

Adelaide twirled the tags between her fingers idly, biting her lip. Guilt pressed heavily on her, the secret she’d been keeping brought into sharp relief by this immediate reminder of the war going on. She’d been training as an army nurse in secret, telling Bucky and Steve she was picking up extra shifts at the diner or spending time with girls she’d known back at the orphanage. Adelaide was a realistic woman — she knew Steve’s chances of enlisting were slim to none at best, but if the war effort got desperate he could be drafted. And Bucky hadn’t exactly been quiet about his eventual plans to enlist. There was no way Adelaide was going to let her boys go out there alone. No way she was going to sit at home and wait for their official army tags to make their way back to her along with a letter and an apologetic soldier delivering the news. And beyond them, she also couldn’t bring herself to work in a factory or collect scrap metal — she knew she couldn’t be passive in this. She had nothing against the women who chose to support the country from their homes and jobs, because she knew they were a vital part of keeping the country going while the war raged on around them. But that wasn’t Adelaide. It was all or nothing for her. Front lines or waiting tables, and she chose the front lines.

“Addy?” Steve asked slowly, seeing the internal battle Adelaide was having behind her eyes.

She snapped her gaze up to meet his, heart pounding. She was being called out, and she knew it. Bucky stepped around so he was in front of her, scrutinising her expression.

“What aren’t you telling us?” Bucky’s grey eyes held an odd kind of fear, as if he had already guessed the answer to some degree.

“I… I’ve been training as a nurse. Every spare minute. If you two are so damn hell-bent on going to the war, I’m coming with you.”

Both men’s faces went blank for a millisecond before they burst into protestations.

Adelaide held up a hand sharply, cutting them off. “You can’t stop me. I’ll be ready to ship out by next year. Where you go, I go. I can’t…” Emotion swelled in her throat, causing her voice to crack painfully. “I can’t watch you both go off to war and not know what’s happening. I can’t just leave you out there. I can’t stay home and fret waiting for a goddamn letter saying I’ve lost the most important people in my life. If you’re gonna get yourselves shot up and cut up and beaten, I’m gonna be right there to put you back together and slap you silly for being such fucking idiots.” Her voice had slowly risen as she spoke, and her chest was heaving when she paused. “I can’t. Don’t ask me to. I can’t.”

Oddly, Bucky looked like he was going to cry, his jaw working silently to hold back his tears. Steve just looked angry, fists clenching and unclenching, brows drawn so tight together he should have been cross-eyed.

“I love you,” she whispered, head hanging low.

That broke them out of their stillness, and she was once again enveloped in a group hug. Tears fell freely down her cheeks, and she knew they’d want to talk about it later, but for now she had to get back to work.

“Guys,” she said, voice muffled by their clothes, “I have to go back in. We can… we can talk about this when I get home, okay? For now can we just act like this is a normal birthday?”

They both hesitate on the drawback, but nod their assent. “But we will talk, Addy,” Bucky promises. “Later. I love you.” He kisses her cheek and Adelaide tells them both she loves them before they leave and she re-enters the diner, wiping her smudge mascara from her cheeks.

“You okay, Frenchy?” Angie asks, concerned.

“I’m fine. Just — the boys gave me dog tags. Just made me think about what it’d be like if they got drafted. Dunno why I got so emotional about it,” she lied easily, forcing a laugh at herself.

“Alright sweetheart, but let me know if you need a couple minutes to cool down, okay?”

“Thanks, Ang.”   Angie patted her cheek and sent her off to serve a regular table with a forced smile on her face.

———————

The three of them do talk when she gets home — they actually kind of yell a bit — but Adelaide still refuses to stop training.

Seven months later, Bucky gets the draft and Adelaide’s face is stony as she says she’ll meet him out there.

 

**New Years’ Day 1941**

Bucky’s in his ninth week of training in Wisconsin, and the weather has turned truly frigid when Adelaide gets her assignment. She’s going to Italy in the last days of February, just after Bucky is due back from Camp McCoy. She writes him a letter explaining, and begging him to just let it be. He and Steve were still fighting her decision every day, trying to come up with reasons why she should stay. But for every reason to stay, she comes up with three to go.  She also tells Bucky that Steve is coughing again. She’s making him wear some of Bucky’s jumpers as well as his own, so he can better layer them, but the chill still steals into his skin somehow. But she makes sure to write that they have some of Steve’s medicine left over from last time and plenty of money for more, thanks to Bucky’s army wages, and she’s dosing Steve up early despite his protests.

She gets a reply a week later that says she’s an idiot for pursuing “the damn nursing thing”, but also genuine thanks for making sure Steve takes care of himself.

_I’d be scared stiff if he were there by himself, Addy, and that’s the truth, Bucky writes. He’s a damn fool and a damn lucky man to have you there. Make sure he wears socks at night. I’m sending some extra money next pay and I want you to buy yourself some of those lemon candies you’re so in love with. It makes me feel good to think of you and Steve happy. Especially you, darlin’. I think of your smile every day. Don’t let the war take it away, sweetheart. I love you.  Yours always, Bucky._

Adelaide traced those last few sentences over and over again whenever she could, committing them to soundly memory. There’d been no talk of her and Bucky going steady, but each letter sounded more and more like one a man would write his girl. She could only hope to confront him about them when he came home.

 

**February 1941**

Bucky’s return was delayed by a security scare at his camp. Adelaide was in Italy before he even set foot back in the apartment, and Steve solemnly handed him a letter.

_I’m sorry we can't go to the Expo together. Get Steve a nice date for me, will you? With both of us in Europe he’ll need someone to remind him to take his damn cough syrup.  And Bucky? I think of your smile every day too. I’ll see you soon in England. I love you._   
_Yours forever, Addy._

 

**April 1941**

Adelaide spends her twenty-third birthday learning for the first time what a dying man’s final breaths sound like.

Her own tags are spattered with blood, but Bucky’s and Steve’s are safe inside her shirt.

 

**October 1941**

Adelaide moves camp so many times she often forgets where she is. She knows the blood-soaked poppy fields were in France, the rolling hills were in Scotland and that she’s now in England — but she only really knows that because they’re passing through London on their way to the front lines. She hasn’t written to Bucky or Steve properly in months, never finding the time to write more than a reassurance that she is alive and well, and telling Steve he better take his goddamn medicine or she’ll whip him so hard with a towel he won’t be able to sit for weeks. She never gets any replies from either, but knows they’re alive. She’s the next of kin for both of them, and they’re hers. If Steve were in the war, she’d know, because he’d definitely write about that. She figures Bucky’s writing a tonne of letters, just not posting them. She knows how difficult it is when you move around a lot.

It’s Halloween when she hears the name “Captain America” for the first time and snorts. Ridiculous, she thinks.

That night she dreams of a man with a strange arm and wakes with Bucky’s name on her lips.

 

**March 1942**

It’s Bucky’s birthday. His second one at war and Adelaide lights a small candle for him in the privacy of her tent. She writes a letter. He doesn’t reply. Steve says he’s feeling better than he has in his whole life.

 

**July 1942**

If Adelaide closes her eyes, she can imagine the fireworks that must be lighting the sky back in America. She thinks of Steve, and hopes he isn’t making himself sad by watching them alone. She hopes he’s out on the town, drinking what he can and celebrating his birthday with people who care about him. He hasn’t written in a while.

All the nurses in Adelaide’s corps are in love with Captain America, and Adelaide is honestly sick of hearing about this goddamn star-spangled man with a plan. Fortunately, she’s managed to avoid his ego tour so far.

The man with the metal arm — she knows now that it’s metal — haunts her dreams for weeks at a time now, and every dream leaves her drenched in sweat and with a sick feeling on inevitability in her gut.

 

**December 1942**

It’s Christmas day and Adelaide and the other nurses sing carols and hymns for their patients, lulling them to sleep as well as they can. They had run out of morphine three days ago.

 

**April 1943**

Bucky sends Adelaide a pressed poppy for her twenty-fifth birthday. Steve sends love and a small bag of lemon candies.

Adelaide seals her responding letters with a kiss of red lipstick.

 

**August 1943**

Adelaide didn’t know much beyond blood and rot and morphine by this point. She’d become adept at ignoring the screams of her patients six months into her tour, and over two years later she was a professional. She was often selected to help integrate new nurses to the corps, as she had an efficient yet empathetic way of explaining how their life would be as a nurse on the front lines.

She was back in Italy, but it wasn’t as pretty as she remembered. The streets of the cities were almost silent this close to the war — you could hear gunfire in the distance almost constantly, but nothing from the residents of the towns they passed through.

Her sole comfort were the letters she kept from her boys, and the metal disks tucked into her uniform. The edges of the tags were worn from her thumb constantly running over them, and she’d memorised her favourite parts of the letters. It was mostly “I love yous” or descriptions of the flowers Bucky saw. He never talked about the fighting in his letters to her. Only the flowers or birds, or how he missed her. She hadn’t received a letter in a few weeks, but continued to send hers religiously now that they were staying in the same area for a while.

Whispers of Captain America coming to Italy blew across the camp, and Adelaide rolled her eyes. She wondered what Bucky and Steve would think of the idiot in his bright blue tights.

She hasn’t dreamt about the metal-armed man for five months and almost forgets.

 

**November 1943**

Adelaide misses her boys so much she can barely breathe sometimes, so when she hears the 107th infantry is headed their way, her heart leaps for joy. It freezes the next instant when she understands why.

——————

She’s spent three days treating the survivors of the 107th, and each time the man placed in front of her is not Bucky she feels another piece of her soul start to cry.

——————

It’s a week after the arrival of the beaten and dying remnants of the 107th arrive that Captain America pays their camp a visit. Adelaide doesn’t bother going. She’d rather stay and keep an eye on her patients.

She listens as Captain America is booed off the stage, a dry smirk tugging at her lips. At least some people shared her opinion of the puffed-up patriotic puppet.

It’s about an hour later that she realises Colonel Phillips’ tent isn’t surrounded by the usual rabble. She knows he is in charge of writing condolence letters to the families of the dead, and she feels a pang in her chest at the knowledge there might be one in there addressed to her, right below the one addressed to Steve. Gathering her courage, Adelaide murmurs an explanation to the head nurse who nods sympathetically. They all knew about Bucky in Adelaide’s corps. They all knew what it was like to fear for a loved one, and that Adelaide’s fear was constant and shattering. And so she left the treatment tent and walked slowly over to Phillips’ tent, begging entry from one of the soldiers.

He hesitates when voices are raised inside, but upon seeing her grim, determined eyes, he just sighed and nodded. “Just don’t get yourself fired. You're our best nurse, Hooper.”

Adelaide forced a smile and nodded, ducking under the flap the soldier held open for her. “Thank you,” she said quietly back to him.

After the first few steps into the tent she halts, seeing for the first time that Captain America and a woman she doesn’t know are the cause of Colonel Phillips’ shouting. She almost walks right back out of the tent, when Colonel Phillips’ growls, “Don’t test me, Rogers. You may be Captain America but I still outrank you.”

“All due respect, sir, but I’m begging you. Sergeant Barnes, I need to know if he’s here.”

Adelaide’s breath stops in her chest, her eyes going wide. Its then that Colonel Phillips spots her, mouth half-opened to rebuke Captain America — to rebuke Steve.

“What the hell do you want?” he barked, clearly on his last nerve.

“Steve?” she whispered instead of answering the colonel’s question.   The captain’s back stiffened and he swung around, mouth gaping. And it was Steve. Taller, yes. Covered in muscles, yes, but those eyes were exactly the same.

“Addy?” His voice cracked and his eyes looked to be brimming with tears. “Is that really you?”

“Steve,” Adelaide sobbed, throwing herself at him, curling her arms around his neck with a fierce strength. A high, keening noise she didn’t know she was capable of producing rose in her throat and tears spilled down her face as he held her to his chest — so much wider and firmer than she’d ever known it, but he still used the same shampoo and she could smell it in his hair. The years of missing him all came down on her like a tonne of bricks and Adelaide found her legs weren’t holding her up anymore — Steve was, with his arms locked around her waist he hoisted her up closer to him, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Addy, Addy — I can’t believe its you. I didn't know—”

“How _dare_ you come out here Steve, you know we _never_ wanted—”

“If I’d known you were here—”

“You shouldn’t be here you fucking selfish oaf, God, what were you _thinking_ —”

“I got bigger though.”

Adelaide half-sobbed, half-laughed at that. “Yeah, you did. How the fuck did you do that?”

“Science, Addy. It’s great.”

Adelaide punched his shoulder as hard as she could, and he set her down gently. “That is for being a complete moron.” Her bottom lip trembled but she leaned her forehead against his chest, not caring about pride.

Steve held her softly this time, resting his chin atop her head — and God that was strange, that he could do that — and stroking her back.

“What in the blazes is going on here?” Phillips demanded, looking ready to blow steam. The woman Steve had been standing next to was watching the whole exchange with thinned lips and a carefully neutral expression.

Adelaide hastily pulled herself out of Steve’s arms to nod her head respectfully to the Colonel, wiping away her tears as well. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I-I was coming to ask about a friend of mine. Actually— Steve was asking about him too. We lived together back in Brooklyn. He’s my best friend.” She might have imagined it, but the other woman seemed to relax minutely, and Adelaide wondered if Steve had finally found his dancing partner.

For a moment, Colonel Phillips looked like he’d been pushed over the brink of madness, his gaze terrifyingly blank. Then he blinked and sighed, resting his face in his hands.

“I’ve written more of these letters than I care to remember,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair and laying his palms flat on the table. “But— the name Barnes does sound familiar. I’m sorry, the both of you.”

Adelaide felt herself scream inside, her heart shattering into millions of tiny pieces. Steve was rigid behind her, and she reached back blindly to grasp his hand. He threaded his fingers through hers firmly, but they both stayed standing where they were. Adelaide went numb, the whole world a dull buzz. Bucky was gone. Bucky was dead, and she’d never told him properly how she felt. Two years without him, and she didn’t even get to say goodbye. At least if he’d died in the camp she could have seen his face one last time, coaxed a smile out of him and held his hand so he knew he wasn’t alone. Instead, her love had died coldly, brutally and alone.

She thought she heard Steve ask about a rescue mission, but was suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. Yanking her hand from Steve’s she sprinted from the tent, doubling over at the edge of the camp to empty her stomach in heaves. She retched until she thought she saw blood in the bile, then collapsed on her hands and knees, shaking, face streaked in tears, vomit and spit. Painful sobs wracked her body and she tucked her head between her knees, hands locked in her hair in an attempt to hold herself together. She thought she might be screaming, but she couldn’t really hear anything but her own blood rushing in her ears.

Some time later — minutes, hours, days, Adelaide wouldn’t have cared if it had been years — a small, warm hand fell gently on her back, rubbing slightly. She tried to curl away from the contact, but she was already in a tight a ball as she could make, and the hand was now tugging insistently at her shoulder.

“Miss Hooper?” A woman’s voice, the British accent startling after months of either American or Italian babble, spoke above her. “Miss Hooper, please come with me. Captain Rogers is worried about you. He’s pacing a rut in the nurse’s tent as we speak. I think it best for all involved that he see you’re alright.”

Adelaide uncurled slowly, struggling to her knees. She stared blankly at the dark-haired woman standing above her, noticing faintly that she was very beautiful. No wonder Steve would like her. “I’m not okay. And Steve hates lies.”

The woman’s red mouth twisted wryly. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Let me rephrase, then — I think he’d be greatly assured to see you haven’t tried to harm yourself, and that your heart is still beating. I’m Agent Carter, by the way, but you can call me Peggy if you like.”

“Adelaide.” She rose slowly to her feet, grateful Peggy didn’t offer any help. She needed to do it by herself, and had the oddest feeling Peggy knew exactly what she was feeling. She had the briefest feeling of sororal love, a faceless brother figure ripped away.

“This way, Adelaide.”

“I know how to navigate my own camp,” Adelaide said, a little too sharply as she wiped her chin and cheeks with her sleeve.

Peggy gave her a sideways glance, a flash of sympathy in her brown eyes. “Yes, of course. Apologies.”

They found Steve pacing as Peggy had said, a cacophony of emotions tearing across his face. He was angry, afraid, lost, hurt and determined all at once, and it was so painfully Steve that Adelaide found herself crying again. As soon as his eyes fell upon her, Steve scooped her up in another rib-crushing hug.

“I’m gonna find him, Addy. He has to be out there. Some of the 107th was captured — they’re being held behind enemy lines. I’m going to go get them and bring Bucky home, even if — even if it’s just a body. He’d want you to have his tags.” Steve’s voice cracked and Addy cried harder, now terrified of losing him, too.

“Don’t go,” she begged. “Don’t. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I have to. I’m sorry. I have to.”

Adelaide refused to let go of him until he pried her fingers from his sleeve and left to catch a plane with Howard Stark.

———————

Four days passed, and Adelaide barely left Peggy Carter’s side when she could help it. Both women anxiously waited for the Stark radio to crackle to life, Steve’s voice telling them where he was and that Bucky was safe with him.

It didn’t come.

———————

On the fifth morning, Adelaide is taking a ten-minute break and chewing her nails down to the quick when the men start shouting.

Adelaide shot to her feet when soldiers and nurses alike started sprinting for the entrance to camp, victorious cries and whoops rising in the air.

“It’s Captain America!” one man shouts.

“He’s got the 107th!” another hollers.

Heart in her mouth, Adelaide shoves her way through the crowd. She spies Steve’s helmet just slightly above the press of bodies, and uses that as her polar north. Then she stops altogether, convinced she’s dreaming when she sees a familiar head of messy brown hair and grey eyes that sweep the crowd, looking for something, looking for —   
Her breath is punched from her lungs by the sheer force of her relief when those eyes find hers and it’s Bucky, he’s right _there_ , he’s alive and he’s only feet away from her.

Suddenly he’s forging a path toward her, heedless of the men he shoves to the side and tossing the gun he was carrying to the ground. Adelaide starts moving again, wriggling desperately toward him, until finally — finally — her hands are in his hair, grabbing his shoulders, tracing his brows, his jaw, his mouth. He crushes her to his chest, breathing harshly in her ear and whispering her name like a prayer, over and over again: “Adelaide, Adelaide, Addy, my Addy, my sweetheart, fuck, Addy.”

Adelaide can feel her legs start to give way but she holds herself up, fingers digging into the material of his shirt like she was never going to let go. She didn’t know if she could. Didn’t know if she would ever be able to drag her body away from his, wondered if she could sew them together somehow so he could never be apart from her again. He was thinner than before, she realised. She probably was too, but it seemed so dramatic on Bucky. She had no idea how long he’d been held by this mysterious Hydra, or what they’d done to him. She felt her heart break again at the thought of him being tortured, starved at the hands of those monsters, and breathtaking rage fogged her mind for a split second.

Then Bucky was leaning back, pulling away and no he couldn’t do that. She caught a flash of determination in his steely eyes before he was leaning back in and _oh_ , those were his lips crushing against hers, warm and firm and desperate.

Adelaide whined and kissed him back furiously, aching to make him feel how much she’d missed him, how much she’d continued to love him, her relief and her fear and her anger all rolled into one tiny action. The kiss was wet now too, both of them crying as they parted with a gasp. Bucky leaned heavily against her, forehead pressing to hers. One had rested on her back and the other reached up to cup her face, thumb wiping the tears from her cheek.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for years.” Bucky’s signature smirk ghosted across his lips and Adelaide barked a laugh.

“Well why the fuck didn’t you?”

“Never felt like the right time.”

“I hope you know, James Buchanan Barnes, that if you had died out there without giving me a proper goddamn kiss, I’d’ve gone out there myself, magicked you back to life and then slapped you back into the grave. You don’t give a girl pressed poppies and love letters then die without kissing her honest.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Bucky rasped quietly, pulling back slightly to just stare at her face. He looked like a man seeing the face of God and Adelaide felt her cheeks heat under his gaze. “I love you, Adelaide Mary Hooper. God, I love you.”

“I love you too, you bloody sap.” Dizzy with the knowledge that it was allowed now, Adelaide went up on tip toes and pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips, tugging him down by the collar.

The initial raw emotions fading slightly, Adelaide realised they’d made quite the spectacle of themselves and had drawn attention to match. She blushed red and hot under the dozens of soldiers’ eyes upon her, and she felt Bucky pull her protectively to his chest again.

“It’s about damn time.” It was Steve who broke the silence, grinning deliriously at his two friends wrapped around each other. “You two were unbearable for years back home, I hope you know that.”

“Shut it, Rogers,” Adelaide snapped, pressing her face into Bucky’s shoulder in embarrassment.   The men around them laughed at the tiny nurse telling Captain America to shut up, and Captain America listening to the tiny nurse.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

As intended, this call inspired applause and whistles and cheers from the gather men and women, but Adelaide was only looking at one. And she saw his smile fade when Steve turned away to thank the crowd, looking bashful as ever. Adelaide watched fear and pain dance behind Bucky’s eyes as he looked at his best friend, and she couldn’t help but share his worries. They couldn’t protect Steve anymore. And he was in more danger now than he had ever been back on the streets of Brooklyn.

“C’mon, Sarge,” Adelaide whispered, kissing the dimple in Bucky’s chin like she’d wanted to do since he first swaggered into the diner all those years ago. “Let’s get you all fixed up and with a hot meal in your belly. I wanna see you get fat again.”

“Again?” Bucky asked incredulously, snapping out of his haze. “What do you mean again? I was never—”

She silenced him with a kiss, to which he had no complaints. “I know, Buck. I know. But you weren’t this skinny two and a half years ago, and I need something soft to cuddle with at night, not a bag of bones,” she teased poking him gently in the ribs.

Bucky rolled his eyes and smiled down at her. “As you wish, baby doll. Lead the way.”

They cast one last glance back at Steve, who nodded when Adelaide mouthed the word _infirmary_ before turning back to Colonel Phillips.

Together, Bucky and Adelaide made their way to the infirmary tent, pausing every so often to kiss against a tree or tent pole. The whole walk across camp, Adelaide couldn’t help but wonder exactly how much of her Bucky had come back from that battle.

————————

When Steve formed the Howling Commandos, Adelaide marched into Colonel Phillips’ tent and requested to be appointed the teams’ travelling nurse. He grumbled and agreed, saying something like, “You’d only follow them out there anyway, might as well save the hassle of dragging you back.”

This caused a spectacular fight between Adelaide and Bucky, who was still stupidly bent on tucking her away in a corner while he charged headfirst into gunfire.

“Can’t you see I’m already in this war?” Adelaide shouted, pulling at her hair in frustration. “I’m not shipping home any time goddamn soon, and if you think I’m letting you two go off on your own again you’re stupider than you look, Barnes.”

“You’re a nurse Addy, not a soldier!”

Adelaide’s glare is frosty as she snarls, “You can never just be a nurse out here, Bucky, when are you going to realise that? Not a single girl here doesn’t have Kraut blood on her hands. We’ve all killed men, just like you. Maybe not as many, but we’ve done it when we had to. I ever tell you about the time a couple of those German bastards snuck past the guards to the infirmary? They wanted to kill us all, weaken the camp. And you know what we did?” Her voice had dropped low and dark, and Bucky’s eyes widened in response. “We slit their goddamn throats.”

———————

Bucky and Steve only stop threatening to tie her to a post when they leave at Peggy’s declaration that she’ll train the nurse in hand-to-hand and basic weapons handling. The agent doesn’t say anything to either man, but tells Adelaide she could have made lead sniper as a man.

———————

Adelaide and Bucky lay twined together, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, trying to muffle their harsh breaths. Tender mouths peppered kisses over flushed skin, both of them content to just lie together in their afterglow. Nothing needed doing until the morning, and so they slept.

When they woke up, Adelaide traced nonsense letters into Bucky’s chest, lightly tapping his tags. “You know, I was always scared someone would hand these to me one day,” she breathed. “Now I’m just happy they’re still around your neck. It means you’re still breathing.”

He hushed her dark thoughts with a kiss, nibbling her bottom lip. “None of that, Addy. I’m back and I ain’t going anywhere now that I am. I’m staying right here, on this planet, you hear? Heaven isn’t ready for me, and I ain’t ready for it either.”

Adelaide pressed her lips together and nodded. “C’mon, Sergeant. Today’s the day we march on to the next great nothing.”

They dressed slowly and met the rest of their team on the edge of camp, fingers locked together, guns strapped to their backs. Bucky carried Adelaide’s med kit, the white box with the red cross like a beacon in the dark countryside.

———————

It took exactly two days before the Commandos were all calling Bucky “Mr Hooper”.

Three weeks later, after a chance meeting with a priest, they were calling Adelaide “Nurse Barnes”.

Bucky and Adelaide didn’t have rings, but that didn’t matter to them. They swapped tags for the symbolic nature of it, and they were married in front of their friends in a bombed-out church because Bucky had always wanted a church wedding.

Afterward they went drinking at the sole surviving bar in town, wherein Bucky wouldn’t stop telling people Adelaide’s name was Adelaide Barnes, Mrs Barnes. He was flush with pride and drink, downing pitcher after pitcher of beer.

They both went to bed tipsy, and consummated their marriage with breathless laughter turning to moans.

Adelaide dreamt of the metal-armed man for the first time in almost a year.

 

**November 1944**

Their first anniversary was marred by Adelaide’s capture at the hands of Hydra. Bucky was in fits of horror and rage when the firefight died down and he realised she’d been taken while treating Dum Dum in the field, the other soldier too weak to help. While Bucky had been safe propped up on a hill to snipe whatever targets he could, his wife, his Adelaide, had been snatched from under his nose by the same men who had taken him.

There was no question – a rescue mission was planned at once, only to be delayed by injuries. Without their nurse, they had to retreat back to the safety of a larger contingent to heal.

“But she’s out there right now, Steve!” Bucky had screamed, grabbing his friend by the shirtfront. “She’s out there alone, and _they_ have her! Who knows what they’re doing to her, Steve, we can’t just sit here!” He was begging shamelessly, eyes wild and spilling tears. “You and I could get her ourselves, you got me and hundreds of others out back at Azzano, we can– we can–”

Steve laid a hand on his grief-stricken friend’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Their shared fear hung in the air, a thick, viscous emotion that clogged their lungs and squeezed their hearts. “We’ll get her back, Buck. Safe and sound and whole, we’ll bring her back. But we have to be smart about this.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “We have to be smart like she is.”

Bucky choked on air and leaned more heavily on his friend. “I need her back. I need her safe, Stevie, I can’t lose her. Not to them, not ever.”

“I know.”

They spent the night planning and plotting, using the intel Peggy gave them to work out the likeliest base Adelaide would be held at. There were worrying whispers that Hydra were experimenting on women, specifically on pregnant women, and Bucky saw red at the thought of some Hydra scum with his hands on Adelaide, making her pregnant to serve their experiment. Peggy’s mouth always formed a grim line when the conversation steered in that direction. The agent had become increasingly fond of the other woman, but kept her desire to avenge any harm done to her tucked away behind her breast. She knew these men didn’t need any more grief on top of their own.

“We’re coming, Adelaide,” Peggy muttered to herself. “Hang in there.”

 

**December 1944**

Adelaide blinked awake slowly, limbs heavy and useless from the sedatives. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the sterile, dark room of the Hydra base, but it was long enough that her belly was starting to swell slightly despite the rest of her shrinking. The doctors had seemed delighted at the revelation she was already carrying a child when she’d been deposited into their questionable care, and Adelaide found some small comfort in that she wouldn’t be raped into pregnancy. She knew it was pregnant women they wanted. Though why, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she hadn’t been able to cradle her stomach even once, arms constantly strapped down, and that every time one of the lab coats pulled up her shirt to touch her bump she added their face to her private kill list.

 

**January 1945**

The doctors injected her with some kind of blue liquid, and she lost the baby two days later.   
She couldn’t even muster the energy to cry for her dead child, only allowed herself to sink back into the darkness of sleep where the metal-armed man waited for her.

———————

When Bucky, Steve and the Commandos came for her, guns blazing, the first words out of her mouth were a broken cry of, “I killed our baby. I’m sorry, Bucky, I couldn’t save it, I wasn’t strong enough.”

Bucky’s face paled, his eyes going blank. Then he snapped out of it and shook his head ferociously, pulling her off her table into his arms. “No, baby, no. Hydra did it. Not you. It’s Hydra’s fault, not yours Addy, please don’t think that ever.”

Bucky carried her out of the facility, and they watched it burn together, the Commandos giving them space for their new grief.

 

**February 1945**

Adelaide became the only official female member of the Howling Commandos eight days after her rescue from Hydra. Her entire time as their nurse, she had continued to train with the men, usually not Bucky or Steve as they had a tendency to go easy on her. Dum Dum Dugan wasn’t afraid to knock her into the dirt, and took massive pride when she managed to take him down. At the time of her capture, she’d been as skilled as any other member of the team, only her total focus on saving her friends’ life distracting her enough to result in her ambush.

Bucky, predictably, fought her promotion every step of the way. Having her actively on the field had been one thing, but as a combat-nurse was entirely another, and he couldn’t stand it.

“At least if I’m an active combatant I can carry a goddamn gun with me, Bucky! Would you prefer I went out unarmed again? Do you want that?” she spat at him, fists clenched and eyes sparking dangerously. Even weak from malnourishment, she wasn’t backing down. “I can fight and heal, Bucky. Just let me for fuck’s sake!”

Bucky raked his hand through his hair, pulling it into spikes. “When are you going to realise you’re vulnerable, Addy?” he snapped. “I know you want to believe being a woman doesn’t put you in any more danger out there, but it does, okay? The enemy – they see you, and they see an easy target. They’ll try and pick you off first, do you understand? They’ll come in hard and fast and fill you with bullets and I won’t be able to do jack shit sat up on my hill. All I’ll be able to do is watch from my scope and I won’t fucking do that again. I refuse.”

Adelaide softened, seeing her husband crumble behind his anger. She knew where his rage was coming from, knew its roots were fear. She reached to cup his jaw with both hands, pulling him down into a light kiss. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry you felt helpless. But I feel that, too,” she explained gently. “I see you and Steve march off to fight, and I know all I can do is hope you don’t get shot. Or if you do, that I get to you in time to save you. I can’t protect you, and it drives me crazy. Even when you’re up on your hill you’re in danger. And all I can do is hope my bandages and sutures are enough to fix the damage after it happens.”

Bucky hugged her close, peppering her hair with kisses. “I know. I’m sorry, too.” He laughed humourlessly, twirling a long dark curl around his finger. “We’re hopeless.”

“Agreed. Imagine if Steve could hear us now. He’d probably call bullshit on us both and send us packing home.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

————————

When Adelaide falls into the ravine, it takes Steve’s arms locked around his waist to stop Bucky hurling himself out of the train after her. He screams her name until he’s hoarse, her own cry echoing eternally in his ears.

“Fuck – Bucky, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Shit, Addy, not _Addy_.” Steve’s tears fall hot on Bucky’s neck, and Bucky feels like his heart has frozen solid.

————————

Bucky and Steve exchange a glance, and Steve takes a shuddering breath before taking control of the plane. Peggy’s voice crackles over the radio, begging for his coordinates.

“It’s moving too fast, Pegs. I gotta put her in the water.”

“No, Steve, we can come and get you. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you, both of you.” Her voice cracks and Bucky is surprised. But then he supposed, maybe if she’d been with them in ’43 when he and Adelaide found that priest, maybe Agent Carter would’ve become Agent Rogers. It was no secret she loved Steve, and now she was losing him. Bucky knew the feeling.

“You still going dancing when this is over?” Steve asked.

Peggy is silent, and Steve starts to turn the nose of the aircraft down.

“Eight o’clock. Saturday. Don’t you dare be late picking me up, Captain Rogers.”

“It’s a date. I’ll see you Saturday, Peggy.”

“Steve–”

Steve cuts off the radio and steepens their incline. “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah Steve?” Bucky stumbles forward at the tilt of the plane, catching himself on Steve’s chair.

“Do you think my ma’ll be there? And Addy? D’you think they’re waiting for us?”

“Waiting to kick our sorry asses for being so stupid, probably,” Bucky laughs painfully.

“Yeah, that sounds like our girls,” Steve responded with his own choked chuckle. “I’m sorry, Buck. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where the hell else would I be, punk?” Bucky knows their time is running out, can see the water now.

“Back in Brooklyn. A white picket fence with Addy, couple of kids. A dog. That’s what you deserved. It’s my fault she was on that train, and my fault you’re here on this plane. So I’m sorry I stole your happy ending, Buck.”

Bucky saw the tears marking Steve’s cheek, and carefully wiped them away. It still hurt to think about Addy’s fall, but he wasn’t going to let Steve die blaming himself.

“Stevie, honestly, do you think you could’ve ever stopped her? She was a tornado of a woman, when she got an idea in her head there was no slowing her down. Yeah, maybe you’re the reason she was on that train. But she was the reason she was in this damn war. And odds are, sooner or later, she’d’ve got herself in some kind of stupid bind and jumped in front of a Krout bullet to save someone else. You know how she was. She was braver and stupider than the both of us together. I don’t blame you for any of this Steve. And ‘specially not for me being here. You know I’ve got nothing left for me if you die. So of course when you decided on this suicide mission, I had to either stop you or join you. Guess I couldn’t stop you. I love you Stevie, and none of this was your fault.”  
It might have been a lie, Bucky didn’t know anymore, but Steve almost looked like he believed it and that was what mattered.

“Love you too, jerk. ‘Til the end of the line.”

“’Til the end of the line.”

Bucky and Steve shared one last smile, then turned to face the approaching blue. Steve closed his eyes. Bucky’s were wide open.

 

**July 2011**

Waking up in the 21st century was less of a shock than it should have been. Bucky hadn’t _felt_ dead in the ice. He was sure he dreamed; probably of Adelaide. He got the vague impression of soft hair, sleep-warm skin and happy hazel eyes staring up at him. Faceless children ran around his legs, one with long dark pigtails and the other with a scruffy mop of reddish hair. Adelaide’s mother had had red hair, he recalls her telling him. He imagined both children had Addy’s eyes.

Steve was overjoyed to find Peggy alive, old and riddled with dementia as she was. Bucky visited a few times, but couldn’t stand the tenderness he saw in Steve’s eyes as he looked at Peggy. It reminded him, selfishly, of what he had lost.

Although Bucky had to have a quiet chuckle when Peggy pointed to a picture on their first visit and said, “I believe you knew my wife.” Of course Angie Martinelli had snapped up a dame like Peggy. They were perfect for each other.

Bucky managed to retrieve Adelaide’s tags from the museum – he’d left them in his tent the day of his last mission, and the Commandos had handed them over to the army for processing with the rest of his and Steve’s things. Bucky’s own tags had gone down with Adelaide into that ravine, but hers were the only ones he really wanted. He bought a new chain and tucked the tags under his shirt, but kept the old rusted chain stuffed in his wallet. He couldn’t bring himself to throw away anything she’d touched.

He gets along with his new teammates despite himself, feeling a pang like he’s betraying the Commandos. He shoved it down, though, and ploughed forward into 2011 with a new life, a new team and a new purpose. He didn’t know if it was enough, but he would stay for Steve. Like he’d said, Steve was all he had after Adelaide. Bucky wouldn’t leave his best friend alone, no matter how many times Adelaide whispered in his dreams.

 

**April 2012**

Bucky and Steve fight aliens. Half of New York is destroyed but they send the fuckers to hell, or wherever evil aliens go when they die.

Tony nearly dies and Bucky’s blood pressure goes through the roof until he’s breathing again. He doesn’t want to lose another friend in battle so soon after coming out of the ice.

“We did it?” Tony asks, eyes rolling wildly, trying to see if there are any immediate threats.

Steve sits back on his thighs, and chuckles. “Yeah, we did it.”

“Oh thank God. Hey have you guys ever had shawarma? I hear there’s a great shawarma joint a few blocks from here. I’ve never had shawarma. Let’s go get some shawarma.”

Bucky smiles tightly, imagining Adelaide scolding Tony for his blasé attitude. “Yeah man. Food sounds damn good right about now.”

Their battered assemblage dusts themselves off and picks through the streets of their destroyed city, Bucky lost in thought.

———————

The Asset dreams. She thinks they’re dreams. That’s what the pictures are when you sleep, right? It’s the same dream every time though. She used to think it was a man with a metal arm, but now she knows it’s a woman. Tall, strong, with a dark braid running down her back, camouflaged against the black leather covering her torso and right arm. Black cargo pants clothe her lower half, heavy boots protecting her feet. Her face is covered by a mask — a muzzle? — and goggles, the plastic tinted red.

The Asset feels like this woman is known to her, but can’t place a name. The Asset’s dream-self sighs and turns away, letting the blackness consume her again.

In the back of her mind, Adelaide is roaring.

 

**April 2014**

Steve and Bucky absorb what Natasha is telling them. About the woman with the metal arm and ten-foot kill list, Hydra’s top assassin for five decades.

“So she’s a ghost story.”

“She’s not officially on any of SHIELD’s databases,” Natasha confirms. “Most intelligence communities don’t believe she exists. Those that do call her the Winter Solider. More confirmed kills than any other Hydra operative. She’s fast. She’s strong. She’s gonna be hard to take down.”

“I know how strong she is,” Steve says lowly, jaw working. “She outran me and caught my shield like it was a Frisbee. I know what we’re up against.”

“Do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky snapped, losing patience. The longer they lingered in this hospital, the colder the trail went.

“You boys have a habit of going into things like this half-baked. It’s personal now, for all of us, but we still have to be smart.”

Bucky knew she was being reasonable, but something was rubbing him the wrong way. She was sounding too much like Adelaide and Bucky cursed himself for still letting her cloud his judgement.   
She’d been dead for nearly seventy years, and three years since he’d come out of the ice, but he couldn’t let her go. He’d even tried to start something with Natasha, but couldn’t bring himself to. He felt like he was cheating on a dead woman.

“Then let’s make a plan,” Steve insisted. “Get the info off the drive and start figuring out what the hell Fury wanted us to know.”

Natasha smirked. “For that, we’ll need disguises.”

Bucky has a bad feeling about this, and by the expression on his face, Steve feels the same.

———————

“If I tried to run in these shoes, they’d fall right off my feet,” Steve grumbled, glaring at the loose sneakers Natasha had made him buy.

Matching white ones adorned Bucky’s feet, and they were all dressed in skinny jeans, band tees and hoodies as if they could truly pass for teenagers. Natasha had a fashionable pair of sunglasses perched on her nose, and had forced Steve to wear square-framed reading glasses.   
When she came to Bucky, she’d stared at him appraisingly and said, “Shave. Man-bun. No one will recognise you.” To her credit – and Bucky’s annoyance – she seemed to be right. Despite feeling exposed with his newly-long hair pulled away from his face, no one was giving him so much as a second glance.

Bucky kept watch while Natasha and Steve went into the computer store to crack the drive. When they emerged Natasha whispered, “Hostiles in three,” without breaking stride.

Bucky and Steve followed, Bucky trying his hardest not to fall into what Natasha referred to as his “murder strut”.

“You look like a panther in human skin, Barnes. Calm down,” she’d said once after a mission.

They managed to escape the mall after Natasha distracted their stalkers with a public display of affection all over Steve’s mouth, and headed to the coordinates she had extracted from the drive.

“I can’t believe we’re going to freakin’ Jersey,” Bucky muttered, settling into the backseat of their stolen car to sleep.

———————

The trio is shaken after their encounter with Zola’s digital self, seeking refuge at the house of Steve’s jogging partner. Sam Wilson is surprisingly accommodating toward two super soldiers and an ex-soviet assassin. Bucky suspects the man is just rolling with it at this point.

He offers to help, showing them the specs for his high-tech bird costume – though he seems less than impressed when Bucky calls it that. And so their next objective becomes “retrieve bird costume”.

———————

Natasha aims a full-bodied kick at Jasper Sitwell’s chest, sending him tumbling off the skyscraper with an undignified shriek.

Seconds later Sam soars above them, depositing the shaken suit at their feet. He holds up his hands, glasses askew from his fall and says, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just keep her away from me.”

Natasha smirks and walks back into the building. Bucky almost laughs.

———————

They’re arguing in the car when a body lands on the roof with a dull thud, and a metal arm smashes through the back window to wrench Sitwell from his seat and throw him into traffic on the opposite side of the freeway.

Natasha springs into action immediately, kicking Bucky to the side a half-second before bullets rain down where his head had been. She then rolls into the front seat, pulling Steve’s head away from danger and barking at Sam to duck.

The dark-skinned man grits his teeth and slams on the brakes, sending the Winter Soldier flying through the air. She recovers quickly, rolling and pulling herself to a stop with her metal fingers digging into the asphalt without even dropping her gun. Slowly she stands, braid falling over her shoulder and masked face allowing for no emotion. Blank, red-tinted goggles pin them in place.

Suddenly a heavy unmarked Jeep is slamming into their car from behind, making Bucky curse and Natasha drop her gun. They’re forced forward and the Winter Soldier jumps over their car, landing squarely back on the roof. Swearing viciously, Sam steps on the gas while Natasha fumbles to grab her gun. Bucky feels utterly helpless, without a gun or any other kind of weapon.

In the same instant Natasha manages to grab her gun, that metal arm comes back down through the windshield and rips the steering wheel clear from the body of the car. They’re driving without control, and the inevitable happens once the soldier is out of danger – the Jeep behind rams them again, sending the car into the concrete barrier and flipping it.

Steve plants his shield firmly against the inside of the car door, holding Natasha close and grabbing Sam by the arm. Bucky kicks his own door out when he realises Steve’s plan, using it to protect his fragile flesh from the impact of asphalt. The car spins away, but all four of them are unbroken save for a couple of bruises.

The soldier is given a grenade launcher by one of the seven men who tumble from the jeep, and she sends Steve hurtling off the bridge. Natasha rolls away from the blast, her and Sam ducking behind cars for cover. Bucky shakes his head, anger boiling in his veins as he clambers to his feet. With a hoarse cry he launches himself at the nearest hostile, taking him down at the knees and wrenching his gun away, putting him down with a quick spray of bullets. Bucky checks to make sure Natasha and Sam are okay, and sees the latter dodging between cars to get to his own – his bird suit is in the trunk. The remaining six hostiles with the soldier are still advancing slowly, and Bucky takes down another with his stolen gun before he’s forced to retreat from a hail of bullets. He sees Natasha jump from the bridge to avoid another grenade, but catches a glimpse of her grappling-hook device before he can be too worried. The soldier switches to an automatic rifle and strides to the edge barrier, scanning the ground for her prey.

A bullet hits her from below the bridge, causing her and her men to duck behind the protective concrete as more follow. They haven’t spotted Bucky yet, and he props his weapon on the hood of a car, aiming at the nearest target. The soldier whips off her goggles, the material of the right lens fractured. She pins Bucky with an unnerving glare, dark eyes burning beneath drawn brows.

Bucky guns down his original target and Sam comes in from the sky to knock out a second, leaving only three men with the soldier. She bites something at them in Russian and swings herself down off the bridge, the crunch of metal signalling her landing.

Bucky swears, knowing she’s going after Steve and Natasha and having no idea how they’re faring. Bullets fire below, and he’s torn between helping Sam or helping his friends. Sam yelling, “You go, I got this,” with a gun in his hand and an explosion from below ends up deciding for Bucky. He nods grimly at Sam and clears the barrier with one leap, landing in the soldier’s footprints. He rolls off the car and falls into a crouch, scanning the area. Natasha is leaning against a car door, half-standing and clutching her left shoulder. Blood drips between her fingers but she’s alert enough to give him an ‘okay’ hand signal.

Steve is battling the soldier hand-to-hand, using his shield to wrench her metal arm and hit her in the face. Abandoning his gun, Bucky comes at her with fists curled, landing solid punches to her gut and chest.

She staggers away from the two men, eyes glinting frostily. Her mask covers the entire bottom half of her face, up to the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones. She pulls herself up to her full height — Bucky approximates 5’8” to 5’10” — and draws a knife from a sheath strapped to her outer thigh. Then she’s moving again, aiming for Bucky’s jugular. He ducks and she sails past him, flawlessly changing her aim to Steve’s kidneys. She misses, catching the knife on his shield. She brings it up again, switching hands almost faster than Bucky can watch.

Together, Bucky and Steve do their utmost to bring her to her knees but she just won’t stop, taking hit after hit and rising back up. Her grim, blank expression was more terrifying than anything Bucky had seen in a person’s face before. She had no regard for her own body’s safety — she was a weapon and she acted accordingly.

Steve is caught by surprise when she spider-monkey’s up his body and wraps her thighs around his neck, gripping his hair. She sends him to the ground with an expert twist of her body, releasing him in time to stand as he falls.

Bucky snarls and wrenches her braid, straddling her torso and shoving her back-first into the asphalt. She bucks under him, but he’s still heavier than her and sitting low enough on her hips that she can’t quite get her legs under her. Rage fires from her eyes as she pummels his side with her metal arm, but when Steve joins Bucky’s efforts they manage to pin her properly. Her chest heaves, something like fear radiating from her now.

Fuelled by righteous anger, Bucky reaches forward and tears the mask from her face, determined to see his enemy properly. What he sees causes his entire body to freeze, heart hammering brutally in his chest. He knows this face, knows it like the back of his hand. He knows the bow of those lips, the angle of those cheekbones, the exact shade of that skin. Beneath him, after seventy years, is Adelaide. His wife. His dead wife.

Steve sees it too and sucks in a wretched breath. “Addy?” he chokes, almost losing his grip on her wrists.

Adelaide blinks, brow furrowing. “Who the hell is Addy?”

Bucky felt like the floor had given way beneath him, like his stomach had fallen out of his ass, like suddenly the sky was green and the grass was the colour of Steve’s eyes. Adelaide was right there — taller, stronger, colder — but it was Adelaide. And she didn’t know it. She didn’t know him.

“Addy,” he rasped, finding it hard to force the words out of his tear-swollen throat. “Addy it’s me, Bucky. And that’s Steve. We— God, we’ve missed you so much.”

Now she looked afraid, eyes flickering between the two men above her at an astounding rate. “No,” she spat, but her expression was conflicted. A split second later it hardened and she screamed her denial, managing finally to twist a hand free and clock Steve on the jaw. It sent him reeling back and then Bucky was sent tumbling into the dust, too.

And then she was gone, disguised by the smoke and rubble like she was a apart of it all. That didn’t stop Bucky from climbing to his feet and running after her though, crying out brokenly for her. He wanted to go after her properly, but then he, Steve and Natasha were being taken by Rumlow’s squad. Bucky went numbly, her expression replaying in his head over and over again.

Steve laced their fingers together despite the cuffs, offering silent comfort to his friend.

“We’ll get her back,” he promised lowly. “We’re not letting her go this time. Never again.”

Bucky nodded, half-listening as Sam protested loudly the fact that Natasha wasn’t receiving any medical attention for her gunshot wound. Then Maria-fucking-Hill pulled off her disguise and punched out their real guard.

———————

The Asset sat silently in her electro-chair, leaning on her thighs with loosely-clenched fists hanging over her knees. They’d stripped her down to her sports bra and underwear to assess her for physical damage, and to more easily work on her metal arm which was also her metal shoulder and metal collarbone and a couple of metal ribs. At least three, she knew, and she’d also gathered that there was a lot of technology hiding under her skin that was less ostentatious about itself.

She couldn’t get the faces of the men from the bridge out of her head, in particular the dark-haired one with the grey-blue eyes. He’d seemed — overwhelmed with some emotion when he’d called her Addy, more so than the blond. Bucky he’d said his name was. For some reason, the ghost of the name James floated in her head alongside it. There was more, she could feel it, but it was frustratingly out of her grasp. There was a connection, small metal disks, warm skin, laughter. A train… Her breathing became shallow and rapid, and she was vaguely aware of knocking the doctor working on her arm onto his ass. Guns were aimed at her head, but no one touched her. She wasn’t being strapped down, at least.

It was at that moment the Boss walked in. The Boss changed, always, she’d had at least six Bosses since she could remember. And “remember” was a loose term — it consisted of hazy images and the impression of fear, always fear, sometimes coupled with pain. The Bosses were never nice men, she didn’t think. No one was nice anymore. Except Bucky.

The Boss crouched in front of her and said, “Mission report.”

The Asset knew what she was supposed to say, knew that command. But she couldn’t bring herself to talk — her mind was totally occupied by Bucky’s face. She had the idea of history, and got a flash of a bombed-out church.

“Mission report,” the Boss repeated, firmer this time, tone edged with impatience.

Another failure to respond earned her a backhanded blow to the jaw. She slowly turned to meet the Boss’s eye and managed to find her words. “The men on the bridge,” she said haltingly, questioningly. “I knew them?”

An expression flickered across the Boss’s face, too quick for the Asset to pin down. “You met one of them earlier this week on another assignment.”

“But I knew them,” she gritted out, emphasising the plural. That was important, she knew.

The Boss studied her for a few more seconds, then leaned back and said, “Prep her.”

“But sir,” a scientist protested, “she’s been out of cryo-freeze for too long.”

“Then wipe her, and start over,” the Boss snapped, walking out of the room.

The Asset felt a whimper build in her throat, her face showing clearly her sadness, how lost she felt. Someone pushed her to lie back against the chair, and she knew there was no use fighting. Her breathing and heart rate picked up, chest heaving as the clamps came into place around her arms and the bad mask descended toward her face. She was given a rubber guard to bite down on so she wouldn’t chew off her own tongue. The bad mask covered her left eye and clamped onto her right jaw.

Electricity flowed and the Asset screamed.

———————

“So let me get this straight,” Sam said slowly, for maybe the fifth time, “the Winter Soldier is your wife? The Winter Soldier is Adelaide Barnes?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Sam shook his head, leaning back against a wall. “Man, my momma admired that woman so freaking much.”

Bucky didn’t reply, unable to force any words out.

“Hey, man — we’ll get her back. She’s strong, maybe stronger than you if even half the stuff my mom said about her is true.” Sam squeezed Bucky’s shoulder gently. “You’re not gonna lose her again.”

———————

They’re here. The Asset knows it, had caught glimpses of them fighting when she had been deployed into the situation. Her missions. Her marks.

She follows the blond one, deciding he was the biggest threat and should be taken out first. What she didn't notice was the dark-haired one tailing her onto the flying craft. When she moved to attack the blond, the brunet was there with some kind of tech-net which tightened around her writhing body mercilessly. Hyper-aware of her own vulnerability in that moment, she threw herself off the narrow catwalk which lead to the control base for the craft, landing heavily on the thick glass at it’s base. The Potomac River flows beneath her, miles down and glittering blue.

Grunting, the Asset manages to get her knife and twist it to hack away at the net, apparently managing to hit its power source because it suddenly slackened and released her.

The brunet mark landed a few feet away from her with a thud, calling up to the blond, “You take care of the chip, I’ll get Addy.”

The name ricocheted in the Asset’s head, but she gritted her teeth and ignored the familiarity of it. They were trying to trick her, the Boss had said. Well, she wouldn’t fall for it.

“Addy–” She cut him off with a lightning-fast kick to the jaw, followed by a punch to his left kidney. He rolled away from the hits, hands raised in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you Addy, just stop this!”

“That’s not my name!” The Asset flung herself bodily at the man, punching and grabbing and scratching and bruising. He grunted and threw her off, but did nothing else to hurt her. She let her gaze flicker to where the blond was fumbling with the control chips. That was her mission, stop any and all interference with the craft. She dismissed the possibility of incapacitating her darker-haired mark quickly enough to reach the blond, and so drew her gun and shot him through the gut.

“Steve!” The brunet howled, shocked gaze moving from the Asset to his bleeding friend.

The blond – Steve – looked equally as taken aback, gingerly pressing his hand to the wound and staring down at his reddened fingers. “Addy…” He slumped down, curling into himself, jaw clenching.

Before the Asset could deliver a fatal shot, the brunet knocked her gun from her grasp and tackled her to the ground. They grappled in a complicated tangle of limbs, each snarling for victory.

“Adelaide – stop! For fuck’s sake, it’s me, it’s Bucky!”

“Stop calling me Adelaide!” the Asset wheeze, her breathing impaired by the headlock Bucky had her in. She pulled her arm forward then jabbed her elbow back into his side, the metal probably bruising his ribs, if not fracturing them.

He swore and his grip loosened, allowing her to wriggle free and scramble for her gun. She saw Steve hauling himself painfully up, replacement targeting chip clenched determinedly in his hand.   
The Asset took aim and fired, but was jostled at the last second by Bucky yanking her backward by her legs. The bullet hit Steve in the leg rather than the head, and the Asset screamed in frustration. So she turned her attention to Bucky, putting a bullet neatly through his right shoulder.

His face paled but he didn’t let go of her, managing to pull her onto his chest. His left leg pinned her left arm to the floor, and he had her in a chokehold again. The Asset felt the blood pound in her head, panic mounting. She heaved and bucked her entire body, but Bucky held grimly on, pinning down her limbs with his own.

“Stop, stop it Addy, I’ve got you, just stop.” His voice was pleading and broken, striking a chord deep in the Asset’s bones. This was dangerous, this feeling, this was going to ruin everything. It was foreign, so it was bad, bad, bad.

“I don’t know you,” she spat. “You’re my mission.”

“You do know me,” Bucky insisted, voice gaining strength. “Your name is Adelaide Mary Barnes and you know me.” He paused, and his voice cracked harshly when he said, “You’re my wife, and I love you.”

The Asset’s entire body froze, eyes wide. Why didn’t that sound like a lie? Why did she feel the answering, I love you, too, press on her tongue? The Asset felt lost, cut adrift from everything she knew. The Boss had said they were liars – but Bucky wasn’t lying. But the Asset didn’t remember being anyone’s wife, didn’t remember this man who refused to hurt her.

Adelaide remembered. Somewhere dark and deep and lonely, Adelaide stirred at Bucky’s voice, keening for his touch. But the Asset wouldn’t listen, couldn’t let go of the reality that had been built for her by pain and ice.

This resulted in a total panic, the Asset snapping and lashing out at Bucky. She twisted her left arm free and punched blindly into his body, sobbing and yelling at him to let her go. Fear made her skin crawl, she couldn’t be touched, she had to get away, she had to breathe somewhere far away from here. She was dimly aware of Steve’s hoarse cry of victory, but found that she didn’t care about anything other than getting away from the man who claimed to love her, the man she couldn’t accuse of lying.

To her surprise, he let her go, remaining lying down while she staggered to her feet, breathing harshly. She jumped when Steve came crashing down from above, apparently unable to descend gracefully thanks to the bullets she'd put in him. He dragged himself to Bucky's side, the two of them bleeding and grim. The Asset could only stare, emotions short-circuiting any commands to move her brain might be sending. 

"Adelaide," Steve said quietly, pressing his hand to the bloody hole in his stomach. "Stop. It's over. Hydra's done." 

The Asset flinched. Hydra was never done. Hydra was forever, she'd accepted that long ago. 

"You're free, Addy. Please come with us. We can help, we can fix you-"

"Shut up!" she roared, jerking forward as if to hit them, but stopping with one arm raised. "I'm not- I can't. I don't know you." 

"Yes you do, baby, you do," Bucky said. None of them were paying attention to the explosions ringing through the craft. "We lived together, all three of us. Then we went away to war, all three of us. But none of us came back and I'm sorry. Hydra took you and I didn't even know it. Addy, I'm sorry."

The Asset stared. All she could do was stare blankly, her torn, broken, burned mind struggling through the information it was being given and trying to find a place for it to fit. 

Bucky reached into his blue uniform jacket slowly, calmly, and pulled from a hidden pocket a silver chain with two metal tags attached. He then tugged a matching necklace from under his shirt, this one latched around his throat. "These were our wedding rings. Remember? The church, Addy, with the Commandos as witnesses." 

"You made me walk you down that aisle, said if your father couldn't a brother would have to do," Steve added, voice cracking. "You were my sister Addy, in every way but blood." 

The Asset stumbled as the glass beneath her feet tilted, an explosion rattling the entire room around them. She lurched toward the two men, falling to her knees in front of them. Her face was grey and streaked with sweat and blood, but her eyes wouldn't leave the swaying tags in Bucky's hand. Numbly, she grasped the first tag in her trembling fingers. 

_Barnes, James B_   
_32557038_

Somehow she knew exactly how that chain would feel around her neck, the weight of those tags bouncing below her collarbone. 

"Hydra took these from you. We found them when we came looking for you, Addy. We found an ultrasound, too, dated December 1944. Your baby, Addy, our son. Hydra took our son from us and then they took you from me. Then they took you from yourself. I know you're in there, sweetheart, I know you still remember. You have to." Tentatively, Bucky reached out with his free hand and cupped her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. 

Then the glass beneath the three of them shattered, and they plummeted toward the Potomac below. 

———————

Bucky loses consciousness as the water closes over his head. The last thing he's aware of is a metal hand curling into the sleeve of his jacket. 

———————

Later, in the hospital, Steve tells Bucky it had been Adelaide that pulled them both from the river. Bucky doesn't mention that his tags are gone.

 

**May 2016**

"Bucky?" 

Bucky's chest tightens and her whirls around in the crappy apartment kitchen to face the open living room. Adelaide stands there, a plastic shopping bag in each hand. He drinks in the sight of her, noting the tattered shirt and hoodie, the glove that covers her metal hand, the faded trainers on her feet. She's gained weight, her cheeks filling out again like they had been before the war. Her hair is shorter, and looks healthier than two years previous. Bucky feels lightheaded - when they'd received word of the Winter Soldier in Romania, he'd hardly dared to hope. But here she was - real, if not completely whole. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I..." Bucky trails off, not knowing how to explain what he thought was glaringly obvious. He swallowed. "I came to find you. We got word you were in Romania, and I couldn't... I couldn't ignore it. I couldn't ignore you." 

Adelaide's eyes are carefully neutral, but a muscle in her jaw jumps. "Why not? I left you on that beach. I walked away. Why come after me?" 

"Why pull me and Steve from the river?" Bucky countered, wincing at the unintentionally confrontational tone. 

Regret seared through him when she looked away, fists clenching tighter around her shopping bags. "I don't know," she muttered, moving closer to set her shopping on the counter between them. 

"I think you do." Bucky was careful to keep his voice soft, open as he spoke. 

"And if I do? I'm not that girl anymore, Bucky, I'm not that waitress-turned-nurse you fell in love with. I have her face, I have her memories, but I don't- I don't  _connect_ with them anymore." Adelaide sounds frustrated, breath quickening in her chest. "I've done things - things they made me do, yes, things I didn't want to do, but I still did them. They still affect me." She took a deep, slow breath, blowing it out in a huff.

Bucky's heart broke at the confusion written in her expression. All he wanted to do was fold her in his arms and tuck her away inside his chest, keep her safe and away from everything that made her look that sad. "You're still Adelaide. You're still my wife." 

Adelaide snorted. "Do you know how long it took for me to accept that name? The Asset - she rejected it for months and months. Sometimes I feel her creeping up on me. She always wants me to run, to hide, to kill even perceived threats." 

"The Asset?" 

"The Soldier, the Asset, the New Fist of Hydra - all the same. The monster they made me into. The monster I'm still not sure how to  _not_ be." 

"But that's not - that's not you. It's not what you want. You can choose different." 

Adelaide pinned him with a glare. "Can I? Really? What if I don't choose Adelaide Barnes? What if I choose someone new? Someone not  _convenient_ for you?" 

Bucky gaped, genuinely stunned. Guilt nipped at his heels. He'd been naive coming to her and expecting his wife of 1945 back - so much had happened to the both of them. He knew they'd never go back to exactly what they'd been before, but he'd still foolishly hoped she would want him. He lowered his gaze, lightly kicking the cupboard in front of him. He didn't have an answer for her - not a fair one. 

"I thought so. You want your wife back, but I'm not sure she's here anymore." She sounded pained when she admitted in a whisper, "Sometimes I wish she was. It would be so much easier if I could look at you and suddenly have everything click back into place. But that's not how the world works, Barnes. People change." 

"I know." Bucky cursed the lump in his throat, the ache in his chest. "But couldn't we try?" The room felt heavy with the enormity of his question. Four words, uncountable emotions and outcomes dangling from each syllable. Bucky was suddenly afraid he'd asked too much of her - her answer would make or break them, he could feel it in his bones. His entire awareness zeroed down to the possibilities he waited for from her lips. 

Adelaide looked at him, looked at the man who didn't lie. The man from the bridge, the man from the trenches, from the diner. So many facets to him, to them together. She remembers arguments, flirtations, kisses and screams - she remembers experiencing every damn emotion with him, because of him or for him. But there's too much of the Asset still lurking for Adelaide to be completely in control. 

"You realise I'm all broken in here, right?" Adelaide asked slowly, tapping her left temple. "What Hydra did, it left me burnt and bent and ugly inside. True love's kiss can't solve my shit, Barnes. This ain't a fairytale." She laughed humourlessly. "Matter-of-fact I reckon the fairies abandoned us to the witches a long time ago. 'Cept this time its the witches doing the burning."

A look of pain crossed Bucky's face, and Adelaide had a split second of regret for causing it. 

"Addy..." Bucky wiped a face over his face, rubbing his eyes. "If you want to be more like you were before, there are people who can help you sort through all the stuff in your head. It'd be hard, I won't lie, but it helps." He falls silent, seemingly searching for the right words. "Fuck, this is all so complicated. I love you, and of course I want you to love me back. Of course I want you to want to be my wife again, but the fact is if you don't there's nothing I'm gonna force you into. It's up to you, Addy. If you wanna change, if you want to get some of your old self back, then come with me. If you don't... well, then, just know you can always change your mind. For either option, actually. Nothing has to be permanent if you don't want it to be - I'm not gonna trap you in anything. Too many people have done that to you and I'm not gonna fucking let it happen again. Even if I don't like the choice you make, and I can't guarantee I will." He puts as much sincerity into his voice as he can and says, "Whatever you want, Addy. I'll give it to you. Just tell me." 

Adelaide watched him in silence, letting her face smooth into an emotionless mask to hide the typhoon raging inside her. For the first time since 1945, she has real options. She can belong to something other than the limbo she's been living in since Hydra and SHIELD fell. Because she knew without asking that if she wanted to move to the Bahamas and live in isolation for the rest of her life, Bucky would help her. If she wanted to set up in a cottage someplace green, he'd help. If she wanted to come back with him and find her old self in the wreckage of her 21st century mind, he'd help her. She knew Bucky loved her, loved who he believed she was. Who she could be again, if she tried. But figuring out what you want after decades of brainwashing and torture is hard - she felt like there was a right answer she had to find or else be punished. 

"You don't have to decide now, Adelaide." Bucky's voice is soft but strained. He's terrified of her answer, no matter how much he needs to hear it. 

"Yes, I do. Or I never will. I'll just keep drifting." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I'll come with you. But the second a door gets locked that I didn't ask to be locked, I'm out. If someone comes at me with a needle, they'll end up with it sticking out their fucking eyeball. I'm only okay with being alone with you, or Steve. No one touches me. I can't - I can't risk anything, Bucky. I think I trust you, but the rest of the people out there? Not a fucking chance." She can tell Bucky's trying to contain the raw hope that brims in his eyes, but he'd never been very good at hiding happiness. "But Bucky... I'm not promising anything." 

"I'm not asking you to," he says. 

Adelaide nods, and that's that. 

———————

She nearly slits Steve's throat with a box cutter when he tries to hug her. Bucky spends the next two days trying to coax her out of a closet in the basement of Stark Tower.

 

**December 2016**

It's seven months before Adelaide can stand to let anyone but Bucky touch her. Even then she feels the need to vomit and scratch the skin away afterward, but Bucky looks so happy she just smiles tightly and goes to bed early. 

FRIDAY, Stark's AI, quickly becomes a coping mechanism of sorts. It's a presence that can appear when needed and vice versa. It can't physically touch Adelaide, which immediately puts her more at ease. When Adelaide needs silence, FRIDAY sound-proofs her bedroom. When she needs dark, the blackout blinds lower themselves and Billie Holiday plays softly from speakers by Adelaide's bed. If she starts to have a panic attack, Bucky is alerted and is by her side in minutes to get her back to her room. 

FRIDAY is a fucking lifesaver. Adelaide only wishes it wasn't Howard Stark's brat she had to thank for it.

 

**April 2017**

Adelaide doesn't know what birthday she should be celebrating. Technically, she's ninety-eight. Biologically speaking, she was twenty-seven when she fell from the train. But with the added variables of the super soldier serum and repeated cryostasis, it's hard to pin down an exact number. Steve says he hasn't noticed any signs of ageing since waking up from the ice, and that's the closest thing they have to a comparison. All in all, nothing is very helpful so they decide not to decide. It's her birthday, period. 

Sam had joked they should only count the years since she'd been free from Hydra. "Deadliest fucking three-year-old on the planet."

Sam Wilson is an unexpected friend. He doesn't expect anything from Adelaide, because he didn't know her before Hydra. He takes her as she is because it's all she can give, and because he understands shell-shock, except they call it PTSD now. Talking to him helps. Adelaide doesn't want to vomit or scratch when he gives her hand a comforting squeeze, and she and Bucky both count that as a win.

 

**August 2017**

Bucky and Steve take her to Peggy and Angie's graves for the first time. It's the first time she could stand it, although she's still brought to her knees when she sees the truth literally carved into stone. 

"I'm sorry," Bucky murmurs into her hair that night as they lie tangled together beneath the sheets. Now that Adelaide can stand human contact beyond light touches or quick hugs, she refuses to sleep alone. Having a warm body to wake up to helps remind her the nightmares aren't real. She thinks it reassures Bucky, too.

"Not your fault. You're not time," she replies, pressing closer to his chest. "You didn't make them get old." 

"Still. Me and Steve got used to our friends being dead a while ago. It's still fresh for you, and I'm sorry I can't help." 

"You help plenty," Adelaide reassures him. "Just having you here helps. Not being alone helps."

Bucky hums deep in his chest and traces light patterns down her back. They're both fully clothed, Adelaide still not wanting to do anything more than simply hold and be held. She's beginning to worry she won't ever want more than that, and has expressed that concern to Bucky. He'd only shrugged and said, "Then that's all you have to do. That's what love is, Addy. Thick and thin, easy and tough, conventional and unconventional." 

"I love you," she says quietly, for the first time since 1945 and they both freeze. 

He takes a few heartbeats to process this development, and figure out the best response. In the end he decides to stick with a heartfelt, "I love you, too." Adelaide relaxes back into him, and he breathes again, relieved. She never wanted people to point out her progress, for whatever reason, preferring to just take it in stride. It was if she were afraid someone saying it would jinx her.

She believed in jinxes now, his Adelaide. Told Bucky her grandma had claimed to be a seer, and said that Adelaide would have the Gift as well one day. 

"I used to have dreams," she'd told him, "of a figure with a metal arm. They started when I shipped out in '41. I thought it was a man, but now..." She'd trailed off, staring down at her left arm shining in the sun. "I guess it just made me wonder if crazy old grammy wasn't so crazy after all." 

  
"Can we go back to Marco's tomorrow?" Adelaide murmured sleepily, drawing Bucky out of his memories. 

"Yeah, 'course we can. No harm in a little reminiscing. But first, we sleep." 

"G'night, Bucky." 

"Sweet dreams, baby." 

Adelaide's breathing deepens and Bucky stares at the ceiling. Holding her in his arms, having her love him again, made Bucky think this must be how the shattered world felt when the last all-clear sounded in September of 1945.

The distant tolling of Stark's stupid clock striking midnight sounded like the peace-bells Bucky had never heard, and he fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Streetcar was actually published in '47, despite Angie mentioning it in '39. I just really like the Rule 63 head canon of Stella Rogers, okay? Plus I can totally imagine Angie seeing Steve post-serum for the first time and just yelling, "STE-LLA!" 
> 
> Also I skipped Pierce's monologue-y spiel in TWS bc I feel like he's probably really sexist (as is the entire institution of Hydra) and wouldn't think Adelaide was worth the time of day. This is why she's in her underwear as well - they're trying to make her vulnerable through nakedness. 
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read this, truly <3


End file.
